


Too Late For Regrets

by Myarna



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Human AU, I'll let you all know about those in the notes before those chapters though, M/M, Mentions of Mental Illness, Mentions of STDs, Music, a lot of shmoop, and a lot of what I hope is funny, band au, novel sized fanfiction with the occasional bit of smut, ok so like a chapter dedicated to STDs, okay so quite a few mentions of mental illness, regular updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2511572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myarna/pseuds/Myarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Garrison meets The Earthbound. Chaos ensues. Dean Winchester meets Castiel Novak. Something entirely different ensues. </p><p>Castiel Novak is part of his family's band. Their less-than-fluffy manager forces them into Battle of the Bands.<br/>Dean Winchester is part of a band with his best friends. Their over-enthusiastic lead guitarist forces them into Battle of the Bands.</p><p>When they get to said event, they're not sure what it is, but something tells them that they're glad they were made to tag along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Build Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I'm planning on updating this every single Saturday until it's done. I've got 15,000 words backed up, so I'm hoping I can keep that up.  
> Here's hoping you enjoy this as much as my beta did!

“Oh, fuck off,” Balthazar scoffed and leaned back in the striped deck chair. 

“Is that any way to speak to your manager?” Crowley raised an eyebrow as he turned to stare accusingly at the blonde-haired Novak brother.  

“Manager my arse,” Balthazar muttered and closed his eyes. 

“But seriously, Crowley. No.” Gabriel shook his head as he spoke, standing up so he could cradle his beloved bass. 

“Why not?” Crowley huffed impatiently. 

“Because we’re not no-talent sellouts,” Balthazar hissed, his eyes still closed.

There was murmured agreement from the rest of the band. Anna twirled her drumsticks expertly, and Castiel watched her with a look of mild fascination. 

Anna was always much more at ease with the instruments than any of them ever had been. She'd had an affinity for music ever since she was a kid. 

“For the record,” Castiel began, rolling his tongue piercing as he contemplated his next words. “I think we should do it.” Cas was sat on the cold concrete floor of the garage, leaning against the cold concrete brick of the walls. Cold concrete surrounded him a lot, nowadays.

Everyone turned to stare at him with wide eyes. 

“Why?” They asked him in unison, everyone except Crowley, who was just looking smug.

“It’s Battle of the Bands, it’s a pretty big thing.” Castiel shrugged and tilted his head up. 

“We didn’t do this to be ‘big’, Cassie!” Gabriel exclaimed, and Castiel tuned out before he could even start the rant. Every member of the Novak’s band had said speech engraved in their memory.

“Yeah well, whatever. I just think it might be fun.” He closed his eyes, deciding to ignore anything else that was said until Crowley gave in and left. 

It didn’t quite work that way. 

Ten more minutes and Crowley had convinced The Garrison to sign up for Battle of the Bands. Gabriel had been outvoted, so the yeses had it. The Garrison would be joining the league of Battle of the Bands. 

_This_ , Castiel thought, _could go so very badly._

 

“Battle of the Bands, bitches!” Charlie practically screamed as she flounced into the garage, clasping a handful of fliers. 

Dean took out his headphones and looked over to the excited redhead that was stood, looking expectantly at everyone else.

“What?” 

“Battle of the Bands is on and we're doing it, okay? My uncle called and said that the band he manages is gonna be doing it, so we're gonna smash them.” She said it so sweetly, it took Dean three tries to uncover the menacing undertone. 

“Do we have to?” Sam mumbled from his plastic chair in the corner. 

The garage had somehow managed to be freezing cold and boiling hot at the same time, and the clashing temperatures was taking its toll on the band. 

“Yes!” Charlie squeaked, and began handing out fliers to the group. 

“Eh," Dean shrugged, pulling his lip piercing with his teeth, “it might be fun.” 

He glanced at the information on the sheet, just as Kevin and Sam groaned in unison. Ash remained silent, resigning to sit and nod. Dean knew for a fact that Ash would sell his soul to go to Austin and compete. 

“Shut up,” Charlie sighed as she flopped down onto a spare chair. She ran her finger over her guitar, making a silent plea. 

Finally, someone sighed. Dean didn't glance up to see who. 

“Fine, whatever. We should do it, I don't care. I'm going to Seven-Eleven, anyone want anything?” Sam asked, getting up to stretch out his oversized legs. 

Shouts of ‘coke’ and ‘pie’ mixed in with each other and Sam just ended up leaving the garage, hoping the bickering would stop by the time he got back. 

The Earthbound were going to have to do some serious budgeting to get the cash together to go. But hell, they'd be damned if it wouldn't be fun.

_This_ , Dean thought, _could go very wrong._

 

 


	2. The Emo-Looking One With the Tongue Thing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brotherly bonding, hacking, and crushes. These three things are completely unconnected.

From that day on, band practice for both The Garrison and The Earthbound was a near constant thing. 

Charlie spent an excessive amount of time online, scrolling through the list of their competitors. 

“Okay, so we've got five rounds before the final-“ Charlie began, reading off the screen. 

“Assuming we get to the final,” Dean interrupted, and despite the murmured agreement, Charlie turned to glare at him. 

“We will.” 

“Maybe.”

“We won't be getting anywhere with that attitude, Winchester. Shut it.” Charlie broke her glare to turn back to the screen. 

“Aw, c'mon, I'm all for positive thinking but don't get your hopes up.” Dean shrugged and retrieved a Coke from the cooler they'd 'borrowed' from Charlie's mom. 

“Hey, I wonder if any of these guys have a YouTube,” Charlie mused quietly as she typed. 

She hit a few keys and suddenly, they were surrounded by music. Ash began to regret hooking Charlie's laptop up to the band's speakers. 

They clicked though a few songs until one that took Dean's breath away began playing. 

“Wow,” Dean breathed. Those guys sounded professional, and they looked the part, too. 

And holy shit, the lead singer was drop-dead gorgeous. Dean couldn't stop watching the sliver flash of his tongue piercing every few words. 

Dean's mouth went dry as the guy looked directly at the camera. His eyes were almost unnaturally blue, and his hair looked as though someone had been running their hands through it. He envied that person. 

“Fuck. Who are these guys?” Dean shouted over the music, which Charlie abruptly cut off. 

“A rock band called The Garrison. Incidentally, our biggest opponents. They're the Novak family, according to this.” Charlie clicked back to the Battle of the Bands page and read from their bio. “You've got Gabriel on the bass, uh—Balthazar with the lead guitar, Anna on the drums, vocals and keyboard by Castiel, and Luke, also known as Lucifer, plays the guitar. Castiel's the youngest; he's seventeen, and Luke's the oldest at twenty-four. They've been playing for five years, yada, yada, yada. Long story short, they're hot, rich, and incredibly good.” Charlie looked up at the rest of the band solemnly. 

“Who writes their songs?” Sam asked quietly, peering at the laptop's screen. 

“Castiel.” 

“What? The emo-looking one with the tongue thing?” Kevin asked, one eyebrow raised. 

“Yup,” Charlie confirmed, having turned her attention back to the screen. 

“Yeah well, we've got Dean.” Kevin shrugged, and everyone agreed. Everyone but Dean. 

He'd been writing songs for the band for years, but nothing that had ever been scrawled out by him could rival Castiel Novak's songwriting. 

_Oh, fuck_ , Dean thought. He'd only seen one music video by them and he was already totally gone on the lead singer.  

It was not like Dean Winchester to develop crushes easily, but Castiel sure as hell didn't make it difficult for him. 

 

“Right boys,” Crowley purred, leaning back on Balthazar's computer chair. “ _The Earthbound_ ,” Crowley spat the name like it was dirt, “are probably your biggest competition.” Crowley began hammering away at the keys of Balthazar's laptop. 

Balthazar winced at the harshness, sure that the keys would break. 

“Who are they?” Anna asked, with little interest in her tone. 

“A strange lot. They’re a rap-rock band. One’s Charlie Bradbury, my niece, she's nineteen, came second in the world's angriest ginger competition, and lead guitarist.” Crowley paused, set to continue. 

“I wanna know who they are, not their life stories,” Luke snapped, eyes flashing with anger. 

“Sorry.” Crowley wasn't sorry at all. “Kevin Tran, honour student, eighteen, drums. Then there's Ash Miles and Jo Harvelle, Ash is twenty-two and plays the keyboard, Jo, who's twenty, sings. Also singing and on guitar is Dean Winchester, who's nineteen. His brother, Sam, aged sixteen, plays bass.” 

“I don't think you are even beginning to fathom the amount of fucks I do not give,” Gabriel sighed and heaved himself up onto his feet. “I got shit to do. Call me when you've got something interesting.” And with that, Gabriel was gone. 

Castiel got up and began to head towards he door that had just been slammed. 

“Oi, where do you think you're going, feathers?” Crowley asked, staring up at the youngest Novak indignantly.

“For a cigarette,” Castiel growled as he left his siblings to argue with Crowley. 

 

He'd intended to smoke, but as his hands hovered over his lighter, he had a thought. 

If The Earthbound or whatever really were their biggest competition, he supposed he really should look them up. 

He flicked his lighter across his desk and opened up his laptop. A few seconds later, he had his earphones in and was marvelling at the beauty of their music. 

Cas' eyes found a young guitarist who was poised ready at the microphone. Castiel assumed this person to be Dean Winchester. 

_Fuck_ , Castiel thought, _he's hot_.

 

Dean sat down at his desk, prepared to do what he was best at. He twirled his pencil around and tapped it on the wood, pretending he was doing something productive. 

It wasn’t even his standard writer’s block, it wasn’t a mental block caused by nothing. His issue was being caused by a pair of blue eyes and a tongue piercing. He shook his head, attempting to clear the image of the Novak kid from his head. 

He’d been wearing long sleeves in the videos. Everyone else had worn tank tops or t-shirts, so Dean idly wondered why he was covering up his arms. He guessed it was just his ‘look,' outright refusing the thought that it was anything sinister. 

“Fu-uck,” Dean sighed, slumping down at his desk. 

Irritated, he logged onto Twitter, shoving his empty notebook aside in favour of the laptop. Of course, the first Twitter profile he goes to is the one for The Garrison. 

“Dumb fucking name,” Dean growled as he scrolled idly through their Tweets announcing their excitement over Battle of the Bands. 

Then, he found the pictures of the band members screwing around. He closed the tab before he could look at them properly. His mind protested and battled with his common sense. After a horrific war with many casualties, his mind won and he gingerly reopened the tab. 

He had enough common sense left to know not to browse their pictures, but instead, he composed a Tweet. 

‘Hey guys, looking forward 2 Battling w/you. C u there #BoB2014’. 

He bit his lip as he sent it, wondering if he should have logged into the band’s Twitter instead of his own. He hovered the mouse over the small ‘x’, but eventually decided to leave it open, only to keep his mind at rest. 

Once again, he shook his head and got back to work. 

 

Castiel had moved onto The Earthbound’s Facebook as he muttered to himself about how dumb their name was. Then again, he was the one who’d come up with ‘The Garrison’, so he couldn’t really talk about shitty band names. 

He rubbed his eyes and yawned, the want for a cigarette completely forgotten. Sighing, he switched back to Twitter and scrolled through the things people had mentioned him in. 

On impulse, he logged out and switched to The Garrison’s page. Crowley managed that, and Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually sent out a Tweet on that profile. 

They had a lot of notifications though. He hadn’t realised. He didn’t check their views on YouTube too often, so he sometimes lost touch of their popularity. 

He almost stopped breathing when he saw who’d Tweeted them less than ten minutes ago. 

Dean goddamn Winchester, telling them how much he was ready to absolutely destroy them at Battle of the Bands. That wasn’t exactly what he said, but Castiel read between the lines. 

He unconsciously licked his lips and slowly began typing out a reply. 

‘See you there, Mr Winchester. -C.N.’ 

He spent a moment wondering if he should use his personal account to reply, or whether he should call the guy ‘Mr Winchester’ or not. It sounded so pretentious. With a dry mouth, he clicked the pale blue button and immediately closed the window. 

He cursed himself for being a total pussy, but still flung his laptop onto his bed and pulled out his battered notebook. 

He flicked through it quickly, watching as his delicate words blended together to become one giant blob of grey. That notebook contained every song he’d ever written. Some he’d shown to the band, some he’d kept secret, and some he’d scrapped before he even finished writing them. 

He usually kept the soppier ones to himself, for fear that he’d be accused of attempting to make them an ‘emo’ band. Apparently, he already had the look. 

He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing a canvas against his skin. He could only get his sleeves up to his elbows, so he gently traced over the tattoos that were on his forearms. 

He ran his finger over the tips of the wings he’d had done on his sixteenth birthday. They were beautiful. They began between his shoulder blades, and the final feather ended a few inches from his wrist. When he reached his arms out to either side of him, he had a pair of realistic-looking black wings. When his arms were by his sides, they were folded up. There was no drawback to their design. 

He also had a swirling mass of colour that wrapped around the final feather of his left wing. It looked like ribbon, but depending on the way one looked at them, they could also be restraints.

He’d also developed a fondness for ancient runes. He’d had three interlocking circles on his ankle to signify luck, a bullet on his hip that was apparently for protection, and a pentagram on his arm, at the tip of the wing there, as another symbol of protection. 

Another of Castiel’s passions was ancient languages. He knew Latin, Hebrew and Enochian. Enochian was his favourite. The language of the angels. It was the first ancient language he’d learned, so he’d wanted something in Enochian, but Luke had talked him out of that. 

He’d wanted so much more, but he was too young, even for Chuck to tattoo him. 

Chuck had been like a father to the Novak kids, and he just so happened to be a tattoo artist, so Cas was able to get a lot of what he wanted done at a young age. Chuck had been reluctant, but Gabriel had egged him on.

It was Michael who pointed out that Chuck would get into so much shit if people realised that the youngest member of the band had tattoos. Hence the suffocating long-sleeved shirts. It would be fine, if they weren’t from Illinois. Goddamn law, ruining everyone’s fun. 

He flicked back in his notebook to a song he’d written about angels. As his fingertips traced over his own handwriting, he thought about piercing green eyes watching him through a computer screen. He remembered the dusting of freckles across the older guy’s face, and the small smirk that those plump pink lips occasionally pulled into. 

Castiel shook those thoughts away and rolled his piercing around in his mouth. The thoughts didn’t stay away, because he ended up thinking about the lip piercing Dean had worn in the videos. He imagined his teeth nibbling the cold metal, teasing Dean with their proximity before finally allowing their lips to—shit. 

 

Dean did not blush. He didn’t blush at all when he saw the reply. He didn’t inwardly squeal when he saw that it was signed from Castiel. 

Okay so he blushed bright red and turned into a teenage girl who’d just had a tweet favourited by Justin Bieber. He didn’t know what on earth was wrong with him. He considered asking Charlie for help, but he could do without the teasing, thank you very much. 

His logical thinking finally gave out when his phone buzzed to give him a Twitter notification. 

‘@castielnovakactual is now following you!’. 

Dean threw his phone. He actually threw it. It clattered to the floor, thankfully without making the telltale cracking sound of iPhones being destroyed.

“Dean, please tell me you aren’t breaking your room!” Charlie yelled from outside the room, and Dean got to wondering why Charlie was in his apartment. 

“I’m not breaking my room!” He called back anyway. 

His curiosity eventually got the better of him, so he left his phone to rot in the corner and left his room. He opened his bedroom door to see Charlie stood before him, perfectly curled hair and cropped denim jacket making her look like the most innocent being in the world. 

“Good, ‘cause I need your laptop.” She pushed past him and stepped inside the small bedroom. “It smells like male in here.” She sniffed disdainfully as she looked around. She eyed the laptop and paused, her pale hand hovering above its lid. “Please don’t have porn open on this.” 

“I don’t have porn open on that,” Dean affirmed, but suddenly every porn video he’d looked at over the past year came back to him, and he was immediately terrified that somehow, a long closed tab would open. 

It wasn’t like he and Charlie hadn’t watched porn together before to laugh at the inaccuracies, but there was a difference between watching for fun with one’s best friend and having said best friend find something one watches for pleasure. 

“Oh, Dean,” she sighed as the internet opened, and Dean’s stomach turned to ice as he feared that his terror might be true. 

“What?” He asked carefully, honestly not really wanting to know. 

“You were going through their Twitter?”

The relief of it not being porn was instantaneous. 

“Thought I’d check out their PR.” Dean shrugged. 

“Bullshit, which one are you crushing on?” Charlie lowered herself down into Dean’s computer chair and looked up at him, pale skin contrasting nicely with the bright red lipstick she was wearing.

“None of them. How did you get into my apartment?” 

“Spare key under the mat. Which one are you crushing on?” Charlie pressed, already having turned back to the computer screen. 

She’d minimised Dean’s Twitter and had a command box up.

“Please don’t break my laptop,” he practically begged, flopping down on his bed as he watched Charlie’s swift fingers ghost across his keyboard. 

“I’m not going to break your—I’m not going to do anything that I can’t fix.” Charlie nibbled on her lip as she filled the command box with text. 

“What are you even doing?” Dean sighed, sitting up to watch Charlie. 

“Reconfiguring your— _crap_.” The speed of Charlie’s typing increased tenfold, which only worried Dean even more.

Then, he was pushed over the edge of not caring. Charlie was good with computers, so he had enough faith her to just let her get on with it. 

“Why couldn’t you use your laptop for whatever it is you want?”

“I broke mine,” she murmured, and Dean pretended he didn’t hear. “Any luck with the new song?” 

“I got nothing so far. It gets real fuckin’ difficult to write a song when it’s important.” 

“How about you just take something from your archive?” Charlie suggested, only sounding like she was half paying attention. 

Dean reached over to his bedside table and pulled open a drawer. There was paper spilling out of it, all covered with smudged and messy handwriting. Charlie glanced over her shoulder and did a double-take when she saw it. 

“How about your organise your archives?” She blinked and then turned back to the computer screen. “Also, if your laptop breaks, I will not be held liable.”

“If my laptop breaks, you’re buying me a new one.” 

“If I have to buy you a new laptop, you’re buying me dinner. Is it Anna?” Charlie narrowed her eyes at the brightly lit screen, scanning over the text she’d just created.

“What?” 

“The one you’re crushing on,” she stated it as if she was saying ‘well _obviously_ ’. 

“No,” Dean groaned, once again flopping back down onto the bed, very nearly slamming his head against the radiator that took up residence next to it.

“If you just tell me, it’ll be so much easier for the both of us.”

Dean mumbled something so quiet, Charlie had a hard time figuring out if he’d actually spoken. 

“What?” She asked, glancing away from the glow of the screen briefly. 

“Castiel,” Dean sighed. “I don’t have a crush on him. I just think he’s kind of hot.” Dean closed his eyes, far too worn down to try arguing with Charlie further. 

“Dean,” she breathed, “I had no idea you swung that way.” Charlie turned to face him, expression serious, but then almost immediately turned back to the computer.

“I don’t,” Dean growled, jerking his body up so he was sitting properly once again. “I can appreciate that he’s hot without wanting to fuck him.” 

“Yeah, but you don’t just think he’s hot.” Charlie’s typing sped up, it was a wonder she was still pressing actual keys. “You’re crushing on him,” she stated in a very matter-of-fact way, which should have angered Dean, it really should’ve. 

“I don’t even know, Charles.” Dean rubbed his face, as if that would clear his mind. 

“I’ll see what I can- _fuck_. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Turn your internet off. _Now_.” 

Dean didn’t even ask. He leapt up and yanked the router out of the socket. When he turned back around, Charlie immediately shut the laptop down.

She laughed innocently, turning to meet Dean’s glare with a sweet smile. 

“If I were you, I’d stay away from your computer for a few days.” 

“What did you do?” Dean asked with an exasperated sigh. 

“I wanted to see how difficult it would be to hack into Twitter’s main database. Turns out, not that hard.” 

Dean honestly didn’t want to know any more. 

“Do you want a coffee?” He asked instead of throwing Charlie out, which he had every intention to do.

“Please!” Charlie sat back in the chair, as if she hadn’t just compromised the security of one of the biggest social media platforms going.  

 

Castiel ran his fingers gently over the keys of his keyboard, chewing his lip thoughtfully. He was sat alone in the garage, where it seemed only slightly warmer than it had earlier on. Somehow, it felt better to be alone and surrounded by instruments. 

“Hey, little brother,” came a weak greeting from the doorway. Castiel sighed at the interruption, but replied decently anyway. 

“Hello, Gabriel.” 

“What ‘cha doing?” He asked, and Castiel could almost hear him biting down on his tongue piercing. That was one of his more irritating habits. It grossed everyone out.

“Thinking about playing in front of all those people,” Castiel admitted quietly. He wasn’t one to admit that he was afraid, so Gabriel was immediately filled with concern. 

“I hate to say ‘I told you so’.” Gabriel arched an eyebrow as he crossed the room to perch delicately next to his brother.

“No, you don’t.” Cas rolled his eyes as he pressed a key gently. 

“No, I don’t.” 

“So,” Castiel continued, glad to be able to change the subject. “I looked up The Earthbound,” he mentioned it casually, as if he hadn’t spent an hour or so thinking about the backing guitarist in less than appropriate ways. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. They’re pretty good. The bassist looks like your type.” 

“Isn’t he sixteen?” Gabriel asked, a slight hint of disdain in his voice. 

“Still looks like your type,” Castiel muttered, glancing over the music he’d written. Suddenly, the symbols didn’t seem to make very much sense to him. 

“Pick out any other hot pieces?” 

“I want to say yes.” Cas rubbed his eyes until he saw colours, just trying to make sense of the black marks on the paper that rested lazily on the stand in front of him. 

“Oh?” 

“They’re all really fucking hot,” Cas murmured, not particularly wanting to admit to developing such an attraction to one guy he'd seen in a few music videos.

“Which one in particular?” Gabriel asked, sounding like he knew way more than he was letting on. He probably did, too. That shit.

“What makes you think there’s one in particular?” 

“I know you, little bro. Which one?” 

“The backing guitarist,” Castiel mumbled, not looking at his big brother. “Dean Winchester. He’s just hot, that’s all.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Gabriel leaned back, and subsequently almost tumbled off the stool. Instead, he flailed his arms about wildly, desperately trying to keep himself upright. 

Castiel muttered something about karma, just as his scribbled notes started to make sense. Instantly, he started playing, before he lost his grip on it again. 

Gabriel watched him play for a few moments, but he got bored incredibly quickly, so he rose slowly and walked towards where his bass was leaning against the wall. Castiel didn’t question it; he barely noticed his brother’s absence. Gabriel started to play along to Castiel’s music, so they had a decent tune going. Castiel mentally noted the chords he was playing, seen as he liked the combination. 

It wasn’t much like their usual style. It was a little less metal, a little more pop punk. An odd sound that would not normally be emitted from the Novak’s garage, but good nonetheless. 

Gabriel stopped playing suddenly. “We sound like a bad Fall Out Boy tribute band.” 

“That’s true. Still sounds good though.” Castiel shrugged, suspending his playing to scribble down Gabriel’s chords. 

“We could perform this for the Battle, y’know,” Gabriel suggested, idly plucking a few strings. 

“I thought you were so against the idea that it physically hurt you.” Cas smirked as he wrote, the position he was in began to make his back ache, but he was too into it to move. 

A pillow was thrown at his head, which he immediately returned. The corner of it just to happened to catch under Gabriel’s eyelid, causing him to yelp as he yanked his hand up to cover his eye. 

“You little fuck!” He leapt up, which is when Castiel decided to take his immediate leave. 

He stumbled over his stool as he tried to run, a cheeky grin plastered over his face as he did so. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Gabriel shouted. Castiel could only hope he was joking. 

Honestly, it was the first time in weeks that Castiel had felt so normal. He just felt like a little brother, actively teasing his older brother, and enjoying it. It felt right, it felt good. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been noticing something strange, in editing chapter breaks into this. It's odd how so much work, so much time, is put into one section. Like, this update is probably about half a month of work, and it's not even that long.   
> //Sigh. Time to get writing, I think.


	3. Literal Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short one this week, centering around the bands' respective car journeys down to Austin.

**One Month Later**

     “If you’re not in this car in two minutes, we’re leaving without you!” Charlie announced, poking her head into the garage, where the whole band was hanging out. 

     “But the car won’t _leave_ without us,” Ash muttered, referencing some old Michael McIntyre sketch. It wouldn’t have been funny, but with all the stress and pressure Charlie had been piling on that day, it suddenly became hilarious. 

     “Yeah, funny as fuck. Get in the car.” Charlie disappeared behind the grey wall, leaving everyone laughing incredibly hard. 

     “Seven ways we can piss her off during this car trip, go.” Kevin smiled, finishing off his bottle of Coke. 

     “The CD that Sam made up,” Dean replied immediately. 

     “What’s on it?” Ash asked, huge grin on his face. He looked drunk, which was not unusual for Ash, but for some reason, it seemed natural and right, more so than usual. 

     “Uh, four versions of ‘Party In The USA’, six of ‘Let It Go’, seven of ‘A Thousand Miles’, and at least nine different Kidz Bop songs, including the cover of ‘Thrift Shop’,” Sam listed, ticking off each song on his fingers. 

     “Dude, that’s cold,” Jo complimented, reaching across to fist bump Sam. 

     “Okay so anything else?” Kevin asked, stretching out in his seat. 

     “Car!” Came the faint shout from Charlie, and Dean decided to actually listen to her. She was getting irate, and that was never a good thing when it came to her. 

     “We’ll make the rest up as we go.” Dean winked, barely able to comprehend what they would come up with. “Everyone go pee now, because I guarantee you Charlie will not wanna stop.”

Every other person in the room immediately got up, much to Dean’s amusement. 

     “Calling it!” Kevin yelled, dashing into the next room before anyone even got close. 

     “Kid’s got the bladder of a peanut. We’re gonna be stopping every ten minutes,” Dean muttered, leaving the room to assure Charlie that everyone would be ready as soon as. 

 

     “Castiel, I swear to fucking God, if you are not in this car in ten seconds, I am going to castrate you in your sleep,” Gabriel threatened, every indication that he was being totally serious.  

     “I’m gay, I don’t care.” Castiel typed another sentence out on the open word document.

     “Just ‘cause you’re gay, doesn’t mean you don’t need your balls.” 

     “You can still achieve orgasm if you don’t have testes. Come on, Gabriel, this is middle school stuff.” Castiel rolled his eyes, a gesture which was illuminated by the harsh glow of the laptop screen. 

     “What fucking middle school did you go to?”

     “You will never know, dear brother.” Castiel rubbed his eyes, feeling the sting. “My laptop’s still charging. Deal with it.” 

     “Don’t make me get Luke. He’s gonna be driving, and you know how he hates to be…” Gabriel was going to say ‘kept waiting’, but he changed his mind, “around us. So come on.” 

     “I’ll be down in two and a half minutes. If Luke doesn’t like it, he can bite me.” 

Gabriel retreated back downstairs, both hands raised in surrender. As soon as he was gone, Castiel minimised the word document and quickly closed down the Twitter tab he’d had open. 

Ever since he’d discovered The Earthbound, and, more specifically, Dean Winchester, he’d been interacting with them (or him) on Twitter. They’d actually become pretty good friends.

Of course, Gabriel had been snooping, as had their fans. Apparently, their interactions could be considered ‘flirting’, and the internet had latched onto it, despite both of them dismissing the rumours with an eye roll. 

Shaking his head, Castiel closed up his laptop and gathered the charger, resigning to just do as he was told for once, and get to the goddamn car. 

As he stepped out of his room, a thought hit him. He’d be meeting Dean Winchester. He would actually be meeting him. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to refrain from flirting wildly when he actually met the guy. The thought made his mouth feel dry. 

 

The car ride was Hell. Literal Hell. Sam’s CD was inserted into Ash’s laptop rather than the player on the car, just so Charlie couldn’t stop it. He played it at full volume for two and a half hours. They’d put it behind the very back seats, so Charlie wouldn’t be able to turn it off without stopping, which she wouldn’t do, because she was a lot more stubborn than the rest of them. 

Dean was the first one to break. He asked nicely for it to be turned off three times before swinging around and hitting the laptop shut until the sound cut out abruptly. 

     “Woah, dude,  that was uncalled for.” Ash seemed far too laid back for a guy whose laptop had just been broken possibly beyond repair. 

     “If you’d have turned it off when I’d fuckin’ asked,” Dean muttered, leaning back in his seat with a long, drawn-out sigh. 

     “So guys, what’s the plan?” Jo asked, not wanting Ash to murder Dean. She was sure that wouldn’t happen, but there was always a possibility, especially seen as they were all packed into Charlie’s seven-seater. 

She glanced over to Ash, who was sat in front of her. The guy looked totally and completely at ease, which was weird. But then, everyone was pretty sure Ash was almost constantly high, so nothing was a surprise when it came to him, really. 

     “I’m glad someone finally asked.” Charlie’s eye roll was practically audible. “We’re gonna be alternating in four hour shifts. I’m gonna drive for four hours, then we’re gonna stop to pee or whatever, and Dean’s gonna take over for another four hours. After that, Jo, you’re gonna take us the rest of the way, because you’re the only one who knows exactly where the venue is. Is that okay with everyone?” 

Everyone muttered agreement, nobody was too thrilled at the prospect of a ten hour car journey, but it was the most efficient way to do it, and they all knew it. 

     “Can we stop a little sooner?” Kevin asked timidly, wringing his hands together. 

     “Why?” 

     “I have to go to the bathroom,” he admitted nonchalantly, obviously trying to hide his urgency with a shrug and the impression that he could be refused and it wouldn’t matter. 

     “Hold it.” Charlie smiled at the empty road, deciding to call him out on his bluff. 

Kevin bit his lip, but said nothing. Sam nudged him, a small smile on his face. Dean thought his little brother would offer Kevin words of comfort, and reassure him that he wasn’t alone in his need to piss, but he surprised him. 

     “Hey, dude, whatever you do, don’t think of waterfalls and running water.” 

Kevin groaned, and the torrent of abuse began immediately. Suggestions of garden hoses and sounds of hissing filled the air, until Kevin thrust a hand between his legs, cursing out everyone in the car. 

From the back seat, Dean spotted Jo lean across the dash up front to whisper something to Charlie. 

     “I’m stopping at the next gas station,” Charlie announced, causing Kevin to breathe a small sigh of relief, and making Dean wonder what exactly Jo had said, before realising that he probably really didn’t want to know. 

 

     “This is a fifteen hour car journey. If anyone so much as complains, I will skin you. Are we clear?” Luke spoke to them all, turning to face every single one of them in the large SUV. 

     “Can I drive the instruments in the other car?” Castiel mumbled, leaning back in the plush seat, wondering just how long it’d be before Gabriel started bothering him. God, he wished he'd had a cigarette before getting in the car.

     “No. Any other questions?” 

There was a murmured reply of ‘no, Luke’, which he took as his cue to set off. 

The good behaviour of the Novak siblings lasted all of ten minutes. 

Castiel tuned out after sixteen and a half minutes.  Already, seven spitballs had been launched across the car, and some pretty fucked-up music had been played from somewhere. Castiel sighed and opened up his laptop. It wouldn’t last for the whole fifteen hours, but it would buy him some time away from his siblings. 

He popped in his earphones and played music as loud as it would go. Seen as he was sat at the very back, he could write songs with privacy. 

By the time they made their first stop, four hours and forty five minutes into their journey, Cas had managed to complete the ending of one song, and had moved onto another, the one he and Gabriel had improvised a month back. He’d managed to work out the majority of chords and notes for that, but he was still down the lyrics. He hadn’t even noticed that almost five hours had passed, so he jumped at the chance of a bathroom, some food, and a break from the car, which may or may not involve a cigarette, depending on how he felt once he got outside. 

Gabriel took over driving after that, leaving Cas in the back on his own, Anna up front and Balthazar with Luke in the middle.

Five hours down, ten to go. 

 

The rest of The Earthbound’s trip down didn’t result in any deaths, which is always a plus. A few minor injuries were sustained, along with some temporary blindness, but that was all fixed before they got to Austin. 

     “We’re about five minutes from the hotel, everyone alright?” Jo asked, waking up Charlie and Sam with her announcement. 

Dean tore his eyes away from the lights of Austin, forcing himself out of his daydream. His heart leapt into his throat. What if they were staying at the same hotel as The Garrison? Most of the bands were staying within a few hundred yards of each other; the local hotels had lowered their prices specifically for the . He’d planned to meet up with Castiel in the venue, though they hadn’t actually talked about it, he’d just assumed. What if they just ran into each other? He didn’t like that thought too much. 

He shifted in his seat, utterly bored of the beige interior of the SUV. It looked pretty cool from the outside, with its tinted windows and black paint job, but on the inside, it just looked like a middle-aged mom’s worst nightmare. So much beige. The trunk was filled to the brim with instruments and amplifiers, as was the spare seat, but that didn’t make any of them feel any less bored. A person can only deal with so much beige for a certain amount of time.

 

Castiel leaned back on the hotel bed, stretching out luxuriously. He’d insisted that he had his own room, because sharing a room with any of his siblings for a week would undoubtably end in at least one fatality. Though, he had to give it to Gabriel, they’d been in the hotel all of ten minutes when he produced a master keycard, one that unlocked every room in the hotel. God only knows why he wanted it, but he hoped it was more to do with being able to get into the rooms of the others than for causing trouble. 

One week. They’d be in Austin for one week. There were eight bands that had been shortlisted to play. On the first night, four would play, and the other four the next night. Each evening, one band would be eliminated, until Friday, when two would be eliminated so the final two could have a showdown on the Saturday. The Garrison would be the second band to play on Monday, the first on Wednesday, assuming they weren’t voted out and the third on Friday, again assuming they managed to stay in. On Monday, Tuesday, and Friday, each band would perform three songs each night, on Wednesday, they’d perform four each, so every night would be like a whole concert. 

He’d swiped Gabriel’s keycard, so he put that in the drawer of the nightstand and relaxed into the mattress.

He closed his eyes, actually feeling them sting. He hadn’t realised how tired he was. Of course though, instead of getting some sleep, he rolled over and picked his phone up from its place on the nightstand, opening Twitter reflexively. 

He and Dean had been maintaining brief, scattered conversation through direct messages, but it was enough to make Castiel smile every time he got a notification from him. He’d thought about asking to Skype, but he didn’t particularly like the idea of scaring Dean off, so he didn’t. 

As soon as his Twitter loaded, a thought hit him quite forcefully. What if he met Dean in the hotel? He’d been counting on having time to prepare before meeting him at the battle itself, but he hadn’t anticipated just running into him. That would fuck him over. He needed time to get himself ready. 

He rolled his eyes at his sudden schoolgirl moment. It wasn’t even like he had a crush on him or anything dumb like that. He just knew that Dean was hot, which was something that had to be appreciated. 

Sure, yeah, that’s all it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next week for the party! Some...interesting stuff happens ;)


	4. A whore, is a whore, is a whore.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can now officially mark this fic as explicit. I feel like this is an achievement. It probably is not.

There was a party for the bands that night. Seen as all the hotels were so close, one of the local bars had decided to hold an event for them all, which was purely just bringing in business, but hey, a party’s a party. 

Dean got to the party a little early with Charlie, seen as they were ready much earlier than everyone else, as always. Sam was messing with his hair, Kevin, Jo, and Ash were two hours into a game of Call of Duty, a game which Jo was winning by a lot. She always did. 

The party was loud from outside. What did they expect, really? It was a party full of band members. Dean suspected that he’d meet at least six people who would be almost ridiculously high. He wondered how many people would try to give him drugs. He didn’t usually get offered, but then again, he’d never been to a party in which band members were honorary guests.

Charlie nudged him while they were in the queue to get in, her long necklace jangling as she moved. 

“It’s fucking cold,” she commented, craning her neck to see the entrance. They weren’t that far from the front, but the wind was bitter and harsh, and the crowd of people jostled them around without much thought. 

“You’re telling me.” Dean shivered, gooseflesh rising on his skin as another gust of wind whistled through them, as if they were nothing more than empty cages in the dark.

“You met Cas yet?” She asked as she looked up at him with a knowing smile. 

“No, actually. I met a few chicks from a band called Huntress, but they didn’t stick around for long.” Dean shrugged, recalling the brief meeting outside the hotel when he needed to get some air. 

“Any hot ones?”

“My hot or your hot?” He huffed air into his numb hands as he considered it. 

Charlie thought about it for a moment. “My hot,” she concluded, deciding she already knew what kind of hot Dean’s hot was, and it was not her kind. 

She was sure his kind of hot had something to do with dark haired, blue eyed boys, whereas she was more into…women. 

“There was this one girl called Dorothy, she seemed nice.” Dean shrugged, sure there wasn’t really any other woman there that Charlie would be into. “But hey, what about Jo?” 

Charlie immediately looked straight ahead and didn’t even glance around. 

“What about Jo?” She sniffed, as if Dean never knew about the massive crush Charlie had had on the main vocalist since before the band formed.

“Oh,” Dean sighed, “did you two fight?” 

“No, not technically.” Charlie’s staring contest with the wall broke, her gaze fluttering in Dean’s general direction, before finally settling on the ground in front of them. “She’s not into girls, Dean, least of all me. So it doesn’t matter.” 

The poor girl looked broken. Her shoulders drooped, her face showed a rare moment of vulnerability that she usually kept firmly hidden behind a strong mask.

“Charlie, dude, the straightest, most uptight, bigoted girl would go gay for you. Jo has dabbled in dating girls before now, trust me, but don’t tell her I said that. You’re amazing, Charles. You’re sexy, you’re smart, you’re funny, your music is sublime, and you have so many people wrapped around your little finger, it’s almost criminal. Maybe she’s just not into you, but if she’s not, then she doesn’t deserve you.” 

“Yeah, I know, but—excuse me, sir, if you insist on groping my ass, you’ll have to be prepared to walk away from here minus your fucking hand.” Charlie had whipped her body around to stare directly at some sleazy guy who was standing behind them in the queue. Dean turned too, but slower.

“Come on, darlin’, it’s a compliment!” The guy was chewing on a cocktail stick, for some reason, and wore sunglasses. It was nighttime. 

Dean rolled his eyes as he sized up the guy, who had noticed Dean by this point and was staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Jeez, bitches can’t take a compliment,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he did so. Charlie froze. 

“A compliment? A fucking _compliment_? Are you kidding me?” 

The altercation had earned the attention of quite a few other people who were waiting to get in. Some people were shouting, but neither Charlie nor Dean were listening. 

“Chill out, sweetheart,” he laughed, turning to the guys behind him as if to say ‘get a load of this one’. They were unimpressed. 

“Next!” The bouncer called, and Dean grabbed Charlie’s arm and pulled her forward before she could knock the guy out. Not that he didn’t deserve it. 

“Charlie Bradbury and Dean Winchester from The Earthbound,” she told him coolly, reaching for her ID just in case. 

The bouncer just checked a list and nodded for them to go ahead. Just as they stepped inside, they heard him say, “I don’t appreciate any unwanted groping or harassment here. If we’re gonna have a problem with you, I will physically throw you out myself, you understand?” 

They didn’t hear the reply from the guy; they were laughing too hard.

 

It was a damn _loud_ party. Fortunately, for whatever reason, there were random activities set up for the band members, so they could get away from the crowd if they wanted to. Naturally, Gabriel had found poster paints and paper. God only knows where from. Luke had been more interested in the party, so that’s where he decided to go off to, whereas everyone else had been totally for going along with whatever Gabriel planned to do. 

After an hour that included twenty four pots of paint, a whole huge stack of A3 paper, some disturbing drawings, and four band members, they all decided it was time to wash up and actually go to the party. Castiel was relegated to soap duty, which was not as easy as it sounded. Finding a bar of soap in a club was not a simple task. 

He just rolled his eyes as he traipsed around the abandoned hallways of the club, trying to figure out exactly where a supply closet would be. The hallways were almost as dull as the interior of the car they’d travelled down in. He briefly considered splashing paint on the walls, just to liven the place up a little. As he was trapped in this thought, he rounded a corner, succeeding in walking straight into someone who was walking towards him. 

Shocked, he instinctively whipped one of arms up to hold the stranger back by their upper arm. In fact, he ended up placing his hand, which was covered in red paint, right on the stranger’s bicep. 

“Oh, shit, I’m so—” Cas looked up at the stranger’s face, and even in the dim lighting of the hallway, he recognised him. 

“Look man, not for nothing, but get your hand—” Dean took a moment to peer into the blue eyes that stared up at him. 

“Dean?” Cas breathed, body and mind frozen. 

“Castiel?” He asked, suddenly aware of how they were practically pressed up against one another. 

“Oh, my god. Hi.” Cas laughed, taking a step back. Then, however, he noticed that he’d left a solid red handprint on Dean’s bare shoulder. For some inexplicable reason, Dean had rolled up the sleeves of his t-shirt, leaving his arm open to attack by paint. “Sorry about that.” Cas nodded to the mark, which Dean apparently hadn’t noticed. He tore his eyes away from Cas’ to glance at the handprint, and laughed. 

“Don’t sweat it, it’s actually kinda cool." Dean grinned, mesmerised by the smiling figure stood in front of him. It was weird. He’d rehearsed exactly what he was going to say to Cas, but now he was actually meeting him, his brain went blank. “Though, I wanna ask, why are your hands covered in red paint?” 

“It’s a short story. Care to walk with me?” Cas got over himself and shook his mind back into reality. The reality was, yes, Dean was even more gorgeous than he looked in the pictures, but no, it wasn’t appropriate to stare into someone’s eyes intensely moments after meeting.

And so, they started walking. Their minds were working slowly, though both wished they could just process everything much faster. 

They made a brief stop in one of the bathrooms so Cas could wash off the paint, the red swirling down the plughole like he was washing off the blood of his enemies.

 

“Why do you smoke?” Dean asked, eyeing the cigarette that was hanging lazily out of Cas’ mouth. He was leaning against a stone pillar outside the back of the club, and Dean was stood next to the pillar over, only a few meters away. 

“I don’t know, it’s good.” 

“Makes you smell bad,” Dean teased, very glad he could subtly stare at the other’s lips under the cover of darkness.

“It may do, but there is a much more important question at hand.” Cas breathed out a steady stream of smoke as he looked off into the distance.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?” 

“If it makes me taste bad.” Cas took a long drag of his cigarette before flicking the red stub to the ground.

“What?” 

Before breathing out the smoke, Cas strode over to Dean and grabbed his face. Without giving Dean a moment to think, he pressed their mouths together, forced Dean’s mouth open with his tongue and exhaled. 

Dean froze. His heart stopped, and he was convinced he was dreaming. It couldn’t be happening, not really. None of this could be happening. 

He probably wasn’t even in Austin. He’d most likely fallen asleep in the car, and was currently having dicks drawn on his face by Ash. He definitely was not standing outside in the dark, being kissed by Castiel fucking Novak. No way. Not possible. 

“Hold your breath,” Cas murmured against his lips. He sucked on Dean’s bottom lip briefly before releasing him, leaving him stood, not breathing, just staring. “And exhale.” 

Dean let out a long breath, sweet cigarette smoke streaming out of his parted lips as he did. He spluttered and coughed as the smoke caught up with him and scraped the back of his throat. It was uncomfortable, but not entirely unpleasant. 

“So,” Cas began after a few moments of watching Dean stare at him blankly. “Do I taste bad?” 

“No,” Dean choked, unused to stumbling on his words where flirting was concerned. “No, you don’t.” 

“Huh. Well, I’m no scientist but maybe we should note that down.” Cas shrugged and leaned back against his respective pillar, glad the cool stone was there to distract him from how much of an idiot he felt like. 

“Don’t you remember high school level science?” 

“I went to a Catholic school. My science teacher didn’t really go into much depth,” he laughed, but it wasn’t real, wasn’t genuine.  

“You’re supposed to repeat experiments to get a reliable set of data,” Dean breathed, the noise so slight Cas barely heard him. 

“Are you serious?”

“I took AP science-” Dean was cut off, as he found himself being roughly pinned against a stack of stone, feeling his lips being claimed by the beautiful boy he stood with.

Hands found hair, teeth found skin, throats found moans. 

It was beautiful, really. Everything was perfect. Cas smelled like cigarettes, tasted like Heaven, looked like it too. He’d never had such a perfect kiss, and it took his breath away.

“Fuck, Winchester,” Cas gasped when he broke away, panting against Dean’s lips as he put their foreheads together. “I had no idea you swung my way” 

“I don’t, usually.”

Cas smiled and hummed a few chords. Dean recognised it immediately.

“ _You are_ ,” he began, smiling like an idiot. “ _The only exception._ ”

“ _I am, your only exception_ ,” Cas breathed and kissed him again lightly. 

“Never had you down as a Paramore fan.” Dean smiled against Cas’ lips. At this point, he saw no harm in flirting, because there was no doubt he was asleep.

“I’m not, usually.”

 

After what was probably about half an hour of kisses in the cold and murmured conversation, they truly broke apart and returned to their original pillars. 

“May I ask you something?” Cas asked after a little while of silence. 

“Shoot.” Honestly, Dean just wondered when he was going to wake up. This was getting to be an incredibly long dream. 

“Have you ever been with another guy?” 

“Been with as in…?” Dean could have given a reply to that, and he knew it, but it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to admit, especially not to Cas, even if he was dreaming.

“Been in a relationship with, slept with, had your dick sucked by.” 

Dean blushed. He could almost feel Cas’ eyes on him, the stare that was analysing every reaction.

“No, never.” He spoke to the ground, eyes firmly glued to the cracked concrete. 

“Seriously? You look like the kinda guy that would’ve experimented.” Cas raised an eyebrow as he watched the gentle flush spread over Dean’s face and down his neck. 

“Seriously,” he muttered, not proud of the fact. 

“Well man, you are missing out. Guys know what dicks like.” Cas looked away finally, sort of feeling bad for the guy. He needn’t feel so uncomfortable, but Cas found it kind of cute.

“Yeah, well, I never got ‘round to it.”

There was a lull in which Dean died inside a little, because he began to think Cas was gonna drop him for being so inexperienced. The wind blew, carrying the bitter cold, and it hit Dean like a train. He wasn’t dreaming. This was actually happening. 

“You wanna try it?” 

“W-what?” Dean gasped. The blush that had just faded came back with full force.

“We could go back to my hotel room.” Cas shrugged like it was nothing. Though, really, he was wringing the black material of his sleeves, stupid fucking butterflies taking hold of his gut. “We don’t have to do anything, but you can see what it’s like, just to be with a guy.” He fully expected Dean to shoot him down, to say no and walk away. But he didn’t.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

 

Dean wasn’t aware of very much, other than the fact that he had just been launched into a very expensive-looking hotel room, being pressed against some partitioning wall.

“Gorgeous,” Castiel growled, biting down on Dean’s lower lip. “Fucking beautiful, Dean.” 

Cas’ hands were all over him. In his hair, down his chest, across his back, over his ass. Then, his hands were roaming over Cas’ body in all the same ways. 

“If you get uncomfortable, tell me to stop,” Cas told him seriously, breaking the contact for a moment so he could make that point. 

“I will. Kiss me,” Dean ordered, and Cas willingly obliged. 

It wasn’t long before Cas’ hands reached his hips, caressing them through the denim. 

“Nice hips,” he murmured, gasping for breath. 

“More,” Dean asked, almost begged, really. 

Cas rolled his eyes and slid his hands under Dean’s plain black t-shirt, then roughly shoved them down, forcing the denim out of the way so he could touch his hips more intimately. 

He was about to start stroking his fingers over Dean’s skin when an unfamiliar material brushed his fingers and he froze. 

“Dean…what underwear do you have on?” 

Everything went cold. He felt like he’d been shoved into a bath of ice water. Dean stilled and wrapped his hands around Cas’ wrists, trying to force them away from him. Turns out, Cas was stronger than he looked. Cas pushed the waistband of Dean’s jeans down a little.

“Cas, please.” Dean looked away, resting his head on the wall, tears welling in his eyes.

He simply continued, pinching some of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled up the underwear, revealing its material quite clearly. He gasped involuntarily. 

“Fuck, Cas, just stop. It’s creepy, it’s weird, I know. I just-” 

He was cut off by Cas crouching down and pressing his lips to the pink silk. 

“It’s _really_ fucking hot.” 

“I know, I’m sor—wait, what?” 

Cas slowly unbuttoned Dean’s jeans and pushed them down completely. He licked his lips as he saw the pink satin in its entirety, decorated with white lace that touched Dean’s legs. The panties looked far too stretched over him, but Cas ran his fingers over it nonetheless. Dean still had his eyes closed, but gasped when he felt Cas’ fingertips brush over his hardening cock. 

“You like that? You into this?” Dean hummed a vague noise of approval, so Cas continued, pushing himself forward onto his knees. “Really fucking sexy. Looks so good on you.” Cas nuzzled his cheek into Dean’s hip, feeling the satin slide against his face. “You do this for everyone, huh? You come whore yourself out for everyone that asks? Or am I just special?” Cas traced Dean’s stomach with his fingertips, which were slightly cold, causing goosepimples to rise on Dean’s skin.

“Y-you’re just special.” Dean smirked, pretending like he was still cool and collected and not falling apart under the featherlight touches. 

“Such a little slut, Dean.” His fingers brushed the crotch of the panties again and Dean whimpered, hips rocking forward towards. “Nothing but a little fucking slut for me.” 

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean moaned, much to the amusement of Castiel, who had turned to running his tongue up the hard outline of the Dean’s cock. 

Dean’s thighs were quivering, and his hands fisted by his sides. 

“You into this shit too? You like it when I call you names?” Cas slid his hands around to the back of Dean’s thighs, and he dug his fingernails in. Dean made a kind of ‘hnng’ noise. “That’s not a fucking answer,” he growled, gripping his legs tighter. 

“Y-yes!” He wasn’t normally into that kind of thing, but it was like Cas knew exactly how to push his buttons. His erection was almost pressing against his stomach, the head just peeking out from the waistband of the panties. 

“You want me to suck you off like the cheap whore you are?” The words rolled off Castiel’s tongue. He rarely had a partner who wanted him to talk to them like this, so it was interesting. 

“Please,” Dean breathed, feeling a moan build up in his throat. “Please, Cas.” 

He hadn’t expected Dean’s begging to turn him on so much, but for some inexplicable reason, it did. 

His eyes drifted up, and he saw Dean’s face, eyes closed, biting down hard on his lip. “Okay,” he murmured, forgetting for just a moment that he was supposed to be dominating. 

Then, he remembered. He hooked his fingers around the top of Dean’s panties, which had a considerable damp patch from precome Cas hadn’t noticed earlier on. He worked them down Dean’s hips, watching in amusement as they fell, hugging Dean’s legs all the way. 

He craned his neck and reached out his tongue to circle the head. Dean gasped, breath catching in his throat. 

Cas wanted to go slowly, to prolong the amount of pleasure Dean could get from it, but something was egging him on, forcing him to go faster. A sense of urgency overcame him, and he couldn’t bring himself to go slowly. Before he could really process what was going on, he’d taken Dean deep in his mouth, already far enough to gag. 

_Slow it_ , he ordered himself. He knew better than to rush into something so intricate. 

Dean, meanwhile, was swimming in ecstasy. Cas’ was making these noises, presumably talking to himself or something, but when he made them, his lips moved in a way that felt amazing. He’d had blowjobs before, but there were blowjobs, and there were _blowjobs_. It almost worried him how expertly Cas moved his lips around his cock. 

Castiel eventually got himself together, remembering his prime objective here. He gripped Dean’s hips as he circled his tongue around Dean’s thick, throbbing cock. His jaw hurt, but it wasn’t like he was interested in worrying about that. 

He did his best to keep his teeth away from the sensitive skin, but when he accidentally scraped Dean with them, he gasped and reached forward to bury his hand in Cas’ hair. Cas smiled as best he could and noted it down mentally.  
Dean was very vocal, Castiel noticed. Moans, groans, gasps, whimpers, begs of, ‘more’, and ‘please’, and exclamations of, ‘oh, fuck’. 

When Dean was getting close, he rocked his hips, unintentionally fucking forward into Cas’ mouth. Castiel worked around his gag reflex, moving with Dean until they had a good rhythm going. Cas began palming himself through his jeans when the noises Dean was making really began to get to him. He wanted to hear more of those. He wanted to make him feel good. 

Dean’s movements became erratic and his breath came quickly, his stomach twisting, and his whole body feeling warm.

“C-Cas,” he spluttered, feeling the weight of his orgasm building up. “I’m close,” he gasped out, gripping Castiel’s hair tighter. 

Cas seconded the statement. He was seconds away from coming as well. He sped up the palming, and worked faster on Dean. 

“Cas!” He called as he came, practically throwing his head against the wall. 

Cas wrinkled his nose at the frankly less than pleasant taste, but he swallowed everything Dean gave him. He didn’t have a great deal of time to think about the taste though, because seconds later, he felt the release of his own orgasm, gasping and spluttering, lips still wrapped around Dean’s softening cock. 

He licked away all the remaining semen from his lips and at the tip of Dean’s dick. 

Cas drew back once he was done, a trail of spit and come linking him to Dean. He quickly wiped that away, not particularly wanting the taste to linger for any longer than it had to. 

They stayed quiet for a moment, catching their breaths. Cas let his head loll back, Dean’s fingers having gone limp in his hair.

“Was that alright?” Castiel asked after what could have been five minutes or an hour. 

Dean blinked and snapped his head up to look at Cas, though even that seemed tiring. “Holy shit, Cas, _yes_. You made me come like a fucking virgin.” 

He blushed. He actually fucking blushed. He felt like such a _teenager_. He was a teenager, but that was beside the point, because for all intents and purposes, he acted like an adult. Honestly, he didn’t know what came over him…no pun intended.

“Shall we take a shower?” 

 

The water ran in rivulets down his body. He stood under the water, trying not to listen to the sounds of Dean's bare feet padding along the tiled floor. 

Before he was prepared, Dean stepped into the shower, facing his back. He heard a quiet gasp, and then felt gentle fingertips tracing over his shoulder blades and down his arms. 

"Oh, my god. So this is why you're always so covered." 

"Couldn't have my tattoo artist getting his license revoked," Cas murmured and leaned into the touch, reminding himself of a cat. 

Dean's hands moved from his forearms to his hips, and he began tracing the small tattooed bullet there. 

"Angel with a shotgun, huh?" Dean breathed, his chin resting on Cas' shoulder. 

"What?" 

"It's just a song that's gonna remind me of you every time I hear it now." He huffed out a laugh and gently placed his lips on Castiel's neck, surprised to find a small area of swollen skin there. When he looked, he realised it was a hickey, and he blushed. He was never one for leaving hickeys on his partners, but it felt good, really. They had matching marks, just in different locations. 

They stood like than for a while, Dean's hands on Cas' waist and his head on his shoulder. 

It wasn’t sexual in any way, just intimate. They stood there, planted gentle kisses along jawlines, traced tattoos, and let the water wash away the tension in their muscles. 

After a while, Cas felt like jelly. He was sure that when he came back to reality, his limbs wouldn’t support him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't look at me.


	5. ...Why Do You Have Baby Powder?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure shmoop.

"Your handprint is coming off," Cas commented, glancing at the faint mark on Dean's shoulder as they sat on the bed next to each other. 

"Can you draw it back on? With Sharpie or something?" 

"Yeah, sure." Cas got up and began to look for his pencil case.

Dean watched as a naked Cas walked around the room, purposely bending over and swinging his hips. In reply, Dean fell back on the bed and groaned. Honestly, he was totally fucking spent. 

Hardly any time had passed before Cas was kneeling over him, peering down at him. 

"Sit up," he ordered. Dean complied immediately, almost making Cas topple over. "Okay," he began, eyes fixing on the handprint. "We need to treat this skin."

"Treat it as in buy it dinner?" 

"I might, if it does well here." Cas looked deadly serious, and Dean's heart jumped. Had Cas just offered him dinner? Like a date? ”There's baby powder in the bathroom, go put that over it."

"Why?"

"Because that stops the ink running. You'll have sharpie all through your wrinkles," he teased and turned back to his pencil case. 

"Actually, why do you have baby powder?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Cas pushed him gently, and Dean made the decision to just go with what he wanted him to do. It seemed like it'd be easier. 

"Well-"

"Go!" 

And so, Dean found himself in Castiel's hotel bathroom, staring his reflection in the eyes, wondering how the hell he got there. He must have done something really damn sweet in a past life. 

He found a toilet bag on one of the shelves. It was one monotonous blue, nothing to write home about. Oddly, when he opened it, he didn't feel like he was intruding on someone else's property. Though, that soon changed when he delved inside and found condoms slid into the side pockets. He blushed bright red at the thought of Cas using those. Preferably on him. 

He shook his head and yanked the small bottle of baby power, pointedly ignoring the small bottle of lube that he saw resting underneath. 

He obediently dusted the powder all over his shoulder, thoroughly covering the area that would be drawn on. 

He gathered himself mentally before casually strolling out of the bathroom. 

The sight that greeted him when he walked in took his breath away. Cas, sitting naked in the middle of the bed, legs folded like he was meditating. 

He really stood out from the dull browns and beiges that coloured the interior of his hotel room, looking almost angelic in the midst of the darkness. 

He glanced up from his pens. His eyes were wide, his hair wavy. Dean had a feeling he was seeing Cas as himself here, rather than Cas as his stage persona. 

"Hi,"

"Don't be weird. Get over here." Cas moved over to one side of the bed, freeing up room for Dean. 

"I was trying the whole cute nervous thing," Dean explained as he crossed the room. 

"Doesn't suit you," Cas replied distractedly, absently chewing on the end of one of his fineliners, mentally sorting through the rest. "Sit," he ordered, and Dean obliged. 

It was insane, he thought, just how comfortable he felt with Cas, considering they'd only just met. Never in his life had he ever sat around with someone, completely naked, and not been even the slightest bit embarrassed. 

Interrupting his thoughts, Cas grabbed his arm and began to study it. Then, Dean glanced over to the pens Cas'd been so thoroughly studying, and his eyebrows darted up. There were an array of pens of different shades of red, pink, peach, and black, all in different sizes. 

"I didn't think I was getting this done professionally," Dean commented, shivering as Cas lightly ran his fingers over his shoulder to wipe away the excess powder. 

“Yeah, well, you are. Suck it up.” 

 

When Cas led him into the bathroom twenty minutes later, he’d instructed Dean to close his eyes. When he finally gave the command to open them, Dean was lost for words.

The masterpiece Cas had created on his arm was amazing. It looked like it had been burned on. 

“Holy shit, Cas.” 

“Like it?” Cas chewed on his lip as he reached for a half-empty can of hairspray that had once been Gabriel’s. 

“It’s ama-ow!” He exclaimed as Cas sprayed the hairspray over the design. 

“Oh, don’t whine. It’s just to seal it.” 

“A little warning next time, please.” The cold was almost painful. It was like someone had straight up covered his arm in liquid nitrogen. 

“You’re such a baby.” Cas rolled his eyes, stood on his tiptoes and leaned over Dean’s shoulder to kiss him lightly on the jaw.

 

"What day's it tomorrow?" Dean asked sleepily, eyes involuntarily closing every few seconds. 

"Sunday," Cas replied, snuggling into him, one arm across his chest, the other close to his own. His head was on Dean’s chest, and he was sure his hair would be tickling him, but he didn’t mention it.

"We should sleep in." 

"We should," he agreed, the fatigue taking hold of his brain. He felt Dean stroke his still-damp hair and leaned into the touch like a cat. 

"Y'know, Cas, I knew this trip was gonna be awesome, but you've made this probably the best night of my life." 

"Shut up, loser." 

"Asshole," Dean murmured, moving his hand to trace the mark he'd sucked on Cas' neck. 

"I like you, Winchester. Really like you." 

"Hope you still like me in the morning." Dean almost looked regretful when Cas looked at him. A spike of worry tore through him. 

"What's the matter?" He asked quietly, suddenly concerned that Dean wished he hadn't done anything. 

"Why would someone like you be interested in me?" His voice was small, either from tiredness or anxiety, Cas couldn't tell. 

"Because," he twisted around to kiss Dean's neck, "you are beautiful," he moved up and pressed his lips on Dean's jaw, "and funny," he rested his lips against Dean's pulse point, where he could feel his heart slowing, "and you like to wear women's underwear.” Dean laughed, sending the vibrations right through Cas, as if they were a single unit. "And because you're sexy as hell, and I've been staring at you on YouTube ever since I found out your name. That's why." 

Dean turned his head and placed his lips on Cas' forehead. "I don't deserve you."

"Chill out, Winchester, this could be a one night stand for all you know." Cas nudged him before returning to his original position of shamelessly cuddling him. "I like you," was the last thing he murmured before his eyes slid shut and he gave in to unconsciousness, Dean absently playing with his hair to get him off to sleep.

 

Cas would like to say that they woke lazily, sun streaming in through the opened curtains, but they didn't. 

They were torn out of their dreams by a loud banging on the door, accompanied by the vague shouts of a familiar voice. 

Castiel blinked away the sleep and sat up in the dark. He could feel that his hair was sticking out in a million directions, but more importantly, he could feel the movement of the bed as Dean stirred. He smiled down him. He looked so adorable when he was sleepy. Then, he was pulled back into reality as another round of hammering began. 

"Oh, fuck, uh," Cas rasped, trying to find his vision.

"Castiel, come on!" The voice ordered, and the pieces snapped together. 

"Fuck, Dean, bathroom." He gave the commands while pushing a disorientated Dean towards the door of the bathroom, which was hanging open slightly. 

"Wha-?" Dean asked, eyes barely open. 

"It's easier for both of us if you listen to me." Castiel pulled Dean up onto his feet and shoved him hastily into the bathroom. He felt like he was still at home, having to hide boyfriends from his parents. 

He pulled the door behind Dean, and wrapped the nearest towel around his waist. 

He took a deep breath and padded across to the front door. He peered through the peephole to see Gabriel and Luke standing there, looking a little more than pissed off. Rolling his eyes, he opened the thick wooden door for them. 

"Where the fuck were you last night?" Luke demanded immediately.

"We were worried, Cas," Gabriel broke in, looking really tired.  

"It's not like I can't take care of myself." Cas met Luke's eyes evenly, the only way of telling the eldest Novak brother that he was not afraid of him. "I didn't feel well, so I left. I was up until four throwing my guts up. Happy?"

"You okay now?" Gabriel asked, checking Cas for signs of outer illness. 

"I'm-"

"Is that a hickey?" Gabe interrupted, eyeing the bruise on Cas' neck. 

_Fuck_.

"What of it?" 

"You didn't get date raped or something, did you?" Gabriel worried aloud as Luke rolled his eyes and began to walk away. 

"What? No, go away. I wanna take a shower." He went to close the door, but his brother put his hand on it. 

"Cas, you'd tell me, right? If something happened?" 

Castiel met his eyes as earnestly as possible. "Of course." 

"We're all going down for breakfast, so I'll save you a seat." 

"I'm not hungry, but thanks."

"You're okay, though?" Gabriel glanced around, presumably looking to see if Luke had gone. Apparently, he had. "Do we need to go down to CVS?" 

Cas froze. He was suddenly very conscious of Dean, who was undoubtably listening, just through the door. 

"I'm fine."

"You sure?" 

"Yes. Thank you for your concern." He gave the automatic reply he'd given thousands of times before. To anyone else, it'd seem rude, but it made sense to Gabriel. 

He smiled and turned to leave, not entirely convinced. 

As soon as he shut the door, Cas rested his forehead on the cold wood and sighed.

Then, his brain decided to work again, and he spun around, making his way to the bathroom door to let Dean out. 

"Sorry about that," he muttered, already heading back to bed. 

"What's the thing with CVS?" Dean asked to the back of Cas' head. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop but..." 

"No, it's okay." Cas climbed onto the bed and flopped down on his back, staring at the ceiling in the hope it would suddenly open so he could be abducted by aliens. It didn't. "When I was younger, things used to get on top of me a little, so Gabriel would take me into town and we'd pretty much just look around CVS for a half hour, so it's kind of code now. He's just wondering if I need time out." He wasn't technically lying. He was, but not full-out. 

"Oh, that's nice," Dean commented as he perched on the edge of the bed, the bedcovers just brushing his lower back. 

"Do you regret it?" Castiel asked quietly after a short while of silence. 

"Regret what?" 

"You and I. Us. Last night," he explained. Then, hesitantly, he added, "just be honest with me, I won't mind." He closed his eyes, stomach contracting in a way that told him he really did not want to know the answer if it was yes. 

Dean was silent for a moment. Castiel's eyes remained shut. 

"You really think I'd regret it?"

"It's always a possibility. If you do, I'd rather you tell me now so I can forget about you for the remainder of my life." Cas wished he was wearing his tongue piercing, if only for something to fiddle with. 

He felt the bed shake, and he thought for a moment that Dean was getting up to leave. He didn't open his eyes. 

In fact, he kept them closed tightly until he felt something soft touch his lips. His eyes flew open and he stared up at the long eyelashes that were resting against freckled cheeks. 

"No," Dean spoke against his lips. "No, I don't." 

Castiel smiled, reached up to stroke the back of Dean's neck, and closed his eyes.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby chapter on the handprint. Next week is family angst + Charlie. Those things are mainly unrelated.


	6. Welcome to the Team!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexuality crisis time! Fun fun fun!

"So, you remember back in high school?" Cas spoke up for the first time that afternoon. The rest of the band turned to stare at him, amazed he'd opened his mouth. "When we first formed, one of the first songs we learned was called Angel With A Shotgun by some random band, remember?"

"I don't see your point," Luke replied in a monotone voice, not looking up from his sheet of paper explaining the lineups. 

"I say we perform that tomorrow. Why not start something big with something old?" He shrugged, like he didn't care either way. In truth, he'd been thinking about that song all night. And when Dean had played it for him that morning, he'd almost had a heart attack. He knew the words, knew how to play it. 

"We can't do that, we've not played it for years," Luke informed him, finally glancing up from the set list. 

"Yeah, but we all know it, right? We must've performed that every day for three months." 

"I don't even care anymore," Gabriel groaned, head hanging back limply. "Everyone in favour say 'aye'." 

"I think it's a good idea," Anna contributed, shrugging like she had way more important things to be thinking about. 

"The answer to a question I never asked," Luke muttered, looking back to the ever-important piece of paper. 

Then followed a unanimous mumble of 'aye'. 

"Alright. Everyone remember it? Good." Gabriel stood up, picking up his guitar as he moved. He played the first chord, and everyone got to their feet.

 

Dean made it to practice a little bit later, and Charlie spent about half an hour grilling him before he told her that he'd freaked out with all the people around and decided to leave. Charlie gave him a sympathetic, but disbelieving stare. 

"The party," Charlie began, "was amazing. You missed so much stuff. We had a great time." 

"I'm sorry, Charles, I just couldn't stay." That wasn't technically a lie. He definitely couldn't stay at the party while Cas was there, inviting him back to his room. 

"You weren't in you and Sam's room, either," she added quietly, picking at the skin of her lips. Dean didn't have a response. "I don't care if you were getting laid or whatever, but don't lie to me." 

She walked away then, and that was all that was said, even if Sam and Jo did spend a while looking at him expectantly. 

 

Later on that evening, Castiel got a text.

 

**_Where are you?_ **

**_< Unknown> 20:01_ **

 

**_Who is this?_ **

**_< Castiel> 20:01_ **

 

**_Dean._ **

**_< Unknown> 20:01_ **

 

**_In Gabriel’s room, why?_ **

**_< Castiel> 20:01_ **

 

**_I wanna see you…_ **

**_< Unknown> 20:02_ **

 

**_I’ll be in my room in two minutes._ **

**_< Castiel> 20:02_ **

 

“Oh, god,” Dean moaned against Castiel’s lips, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he felt himself get shoved against a wall. He was pretty sure he just knocked off a picture frame, but he couldn’t care less at that point.

“I have missed your mouth,” Cas gasped in between kisses, hands slipping into Dean’s back pockets. 

Dean wanted to respond with something snarky, but instead tugged on Castiel’s lower lip with his teeth and bit down on it lightly. 

Cas gasped and responded by using the placement of his hands to pull Dean roughly towards them, their denim-dressed hips knocking together in a way that should have been painful. 

“Dammit, Cas-” 

They were interrupted by a knocking on the door. 

“Go away!” Cas called, barely glancing over to it. 

There was another knock, and Dean was about to suggest checking to see who was there, but Cas claimed his mouth again and he forgot how to form words. 

Cas couldn’t give two shits about whoever was at the door. They’d go away soon enough. Instead, he focused on all things Dean. He drank in his smell, saved the sounds of his whimpers to memory, learned the curves of his body.

“Dean,” he gasped for no apparent reason. He moved to concentrate on Dean’s neck, feeling his heart jump with pleasure when he felt Dean’s pulse racing against his lips. 

He barely heard the next series of knocks. 

“Fuck off!” He shouted anyway, taking a moment away from making Dean moan. 

“Fucking bite me,” Dean growled, and Cas willingly obliged, yanking down the collar of Dean’s plain green t-shirt and placing his mouth just below his collarbone in a gentle kiss, which was quickly followed by Cas biting down and sucking another bruise onto the skin. He had quite a pretty set of them. “Cas!” He gasped, hips jerking forward. 

Just as they felt the spark of arousal shoot down their spines, they were hit with a rush of cold air as the door fell open. Cas didn’t have time to ignore it, because before he’d even thought of doing it, he felt a firm hand in his hair and another hooked under his collar, and then the dizzying pain he got when he was yanked roughly away from Dean. He was sure his scalp was going to start bleeding. 

“Hey, what the fuck?” He yelled at whoever was grabbing him, preparing to jerk his head backwards suddenly, hopefully to headbutt someone in the face. 

“Castiel James Novak, get yourself together immediately,” his attacker snapped, and Cas rolled his eyes.

“Luke Cocksucker Novak, get yourself out of my room immediately,” Cas snapped back, just grateful for the fact he hadn’t had time to get hard. He wasn’t so sure about Dean, but most of his energy was focused on the iron grip his brother had on his head. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Castiel?” Luke let go of him, and Cas immediately spun around to stare at him accusingly. 

“Living my life, how about you?” He asked it casually, pretending he wasn’t absolutely ready to punch his brother so hard in the face he’d be asleep for three days. He even took a moment to wonder how Luke had got into his room in the first place. Gabriel had probably got hold of another master key or something.

“You’re being irresponsible. You have to be in Gabriel’s room for seven tomorrow, you understand?” 

Castiel glared up at Luke in disbelief. He was always the perfect one. Blonde hair, nicely dressed, only a ear stretcher to his name, calm, collected, in control. In charge. 

“Yes, oh great and mighty Lucifer. May I please get back to making out with the gorgeous boy you just pulled me away from?” He gestured grandly towards Dean. 

“No,” Luke stated firmly then looked up to glare at Dean. “Earthbound, out.” 

“Excuse me?” Castiel raised an eyebrow. “You can’t do that.”

“You’re seventeen, I’m twenty-four. Yes, I can.” He glanced back to Cas, speaking to him like he was talking to a child. He spoke to everyone like he was talking to a child. 

“And he’s nineteen.” 

“Even worse. Earthbound, out,” he repeated firmly. This time, Dean listened. 

“I’ll talk to you.” He looked at Cas, straight through Luke. Cas silently wondered how long Dean would have the balls to do that, before Luke got to him. 

Dean gave him one last, longing look, before glaring at Luke and skulking away, leaving the door wide open behind him. 

“You’re a dick,” Cas accused, pushing Luke in the chest, which only caused the older Novak to go and close the door. 

“You need to sleep. Big day tomorrow. We’re just worried, Cas.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Cas growled and slunk into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He planned not to come out until Luke left.

He didn’t have the good sense to take his phone with him, so he was left staring at the mirror trying to think of something to do until the familiar click of the door sounded so he’d be safe to leave the confines of the bathroom. 

That didn’t happen, though. 

“We _are_ worried about you,” Luke said softly. “The Earthbound boy isn’t good news.” 

Cas scoffed and decided to organise his toiletries. If anything, Dean was a good influence on him. 

“We remember what happened with April.” That caused Cas to stop and grit his teeth. 

“Yes well, what happened with April happened before I realised that I’m a fag.” 

“Don’t use that word.” He could almost hear Luke shaking his head sadly. 

“Why not? Everyone else seems to.” Castiel leaned against the bathroom door. He hadn’t expected his own words to bring out such emotion in him. There were tears welling in his eyes, for fuck’s sake. 

“We just don’t want you to get bad again.” And that was it. 

He threw open the door, rage already eating him from the inside out. 

“You think I was depressed because of April?” He yelled at his brother, stepping forward to literally force him wherever he wanted him to go. “I was bipolar, Luke! I wanted to die! You really think that was because I got _dumped_?” He was absolutely fuming, but had enough sense about him to hide any hint of him still being bad. When he got ill again, he and Gabriel had gone to great lengths to hide it from the family. 

“We didn’t know what to think, Castiel.” 

“You did, didn’t you?” Cas laughed, but it was empty. “Get the fuck out,” he ordered coldly, meeting his brother’s stare with one filled with hatred. “I’ll be in Gabriel’s room tomorrow morning. But for now, I don’t wanna see your fucking face,” he spat, then spun around and headed towards the bed. 

He heard Luke hesitate, and then sigh. A few seconds later, his door clicked shut.

He was tired, now he came to think about it. He shook with the after effects of the anger, and he really wanted a cigarette; it had been hours since his last.  

Sighing, he reached for his phone. 

 

**_Come watch us tomorrow? Starts at 7._ **

**_< Castiel> 20:21_ **

 

**_Wouldn't miss it for the world ;) x_ **

**_< Dean> 20:21_ **

 

When he'd disappeared again that evening as soon as he'd put down his guitar, Sam was ready to question him.  

"He'll tell us if and when he's ready to," Charlie had told them after Dean left, effectively stopping anyone from speaking up. 

However, when he dragged himself past her maybe ten minutes later, looking a little worse than dishevelled, she couldn't stay quiet. He tried to walk past her, but she put her arm out, stopping him. She took a deep breath of the stale air (all hotels always seemed to smell the same, in Charlie's opinion) and faced him. 

"Where'd you go?" She asked, taking in his messed-up shirt and swollen lips. She knew for a fact that he'd been with someone, but she wanted to see if he'd lie. 

"Nowhere," he grumbled, and for the first time, she noted his slumped posture and dejected look. 

"What? Girlfriend throw you out?" She raised an eyebrow and put her delicate hands on her hips, which were draped in the material of her new green plaid skirt.

"The big brother, actually," he mumbled, which caused Charlie to pause for thought. She'd expected him to carry on lying, so the sudden admission very nearly shocked her.  

"What's her name?" She asked gently. 

"Cassandra," he replied instantly. Charlie knew about Cas, so God only knows why he wanted to play straight for her. 

"Bullshit," she retorted, instantly seeing through the mist. It took her a moment, but she then she got it. "Castiel. It's Castiel, isn't it?" Excitement sparked in her eyes and she grinned. 

"No!" He kicked the vomit-coloured carpet with the tip of his toe. 

"Why do you insist on lying to me?" She asked quietly. "You're my best friend, Dean. We've told each other everything since the beginning. Now suddenly we're a few hundred miles from home and you're a different person. What is _wrong_?" When Charlie got angry, she didn't scream or shout, she just got quiet. And that was more terrifying than conventional anger. 

"Nothing's wrong, I just-I'm seeing Castiel. I think." 

Charlie's eyes widened. "Are you serious?" Dean couldn't tell whether she was pissed or not, and that was scarier than knowing she was. 

"Yeah." 

"Oh, my god." She blinked. " _Oh, my god._ Why didn't you tell me? Holy shit. You've joined the team! I knew it." Her expression broke into one of happiness. 

"The team?" Dean asked, one eyebrow raised. 

"The gays," she laughed, throwing her arms around him. 

"Charles," he began, reaching up to push Charlie's arms off him. She went with it, stepping backwards cautiously. “I’m not gay.” 

“You’re with a guy, though.” 

“That doesn’t make me gay, though. I’ve been with girls before; I like girls.” There was a word for it, he knew there was, he just couldn’t remember it. 

“So what _does_ it make you? Like, some kind of a half breed?” 

He was certain that shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. He took out his phone while Charlie went on about something he wasn't listening to. 

 

**_What am I?_ **

**_< Dean> 20:25_ **

 

**_What?_ **

**_< Castiel> 20:25_ **

 

**_I like girls and sometimes guys. What’s the word for that?_ **

**_< Dean> 20:25_ **

 

**_Bi???_ **

**_< Castiel> 20:26_ **

 

“Bi!” He exclaimed, interrupting whatever Charlie was saying. “Bisexual. Bi.” 

“But I thought that was for teenage girls who wanted to seem hot to guys?” 

“Nope!” _Bisexual_. It felt right, like it fit him perfectly. He’d not read up on it in great detail before now, but he’d heard of it, and it had always felt better than ‘straight’. 

 

**_Have I sent you into a sexuality crisis?_ **

**_< Castiel> 20:27_ **

 

**_No, no, you’re not my first._ **

**_< Dean> 20:27_ **

 

**_Then you lied to me o:_ **

**_< Castiel> 20:27_ **

 

**_I meant you’re not my first guy crush_ **

**_< Dean> 20:28_ **

 

**_I’m intrigued! Do tell!_ **

**_< Castiel> 20:28_ **

 

**_Later x_ **

**_< Dean> 20:28_ **

 

“Good morning, Vietnam!” Castiel yelled as he threw open the door to Gabriel’s room at five minutes to seven. 

“Ugh, go away,” Gabriel groaned from under the bedsheets. 

“Oh, my god, are you serious?” Castiel slouched where he stood, shoulders falling. “We’re performing today, you do know that, right?” 

“Not ’til later,” Gabe mumbled, shifting on the hotel bed. 

“Go away, Castiel,” Balthazar muttered, making his presence known. Honestly, Cas had forgotten he was there. 

“Luke told me to be here for now!” He accused, looking around for something he could throw at his brothers.

“Five more minutes.” Balthazar turned over and groaned. “I hate little brothers.” 

“Same,” Gabriel groaned again which got nothing but an eye roll from Cas. “Look, Cas, Luke sucks, tell him that, would you? We need to sleep, okay?” 

“Alright, but don’t blame me when he comes in, ready to kill us all.” 

Cas shrugged as he spoke and left the room, pausing at the door to fling Gabriel’s master keycard to the floor. 

When he got out into the hallway, he stopped to hear the door lock behind him. To the best of his knowledge, he had an indefinite amount of time before Luke found everyone, so a stroll seemed like the best idea. Maybe he'd actually get some breakfast. 

He was strolling down the hallway when he heard a shout from behind him. 

"Hey!" 

He ignored it, because he assumed the person was calling for someone else. 

"Hey, wait!" The person called again, and Castiel turned. He came face to face with a tall, slim redhead, wearing skinny jeans and knee high boots. He vaguely recognised her, but not enough to know her name. "Hey, it's Castiel, right?" 

Oh, so a fan? "Yes, hello." He smiled politely. 

"I'm Charlie Bradbury." 

"Oh, from the Earthbound. Hi." From what he'd seen in the behind the scenes videos, he'd gathered that Charlie was basically Dean's best friend. He swallowed the nerves that suddenly manifested. 

"Yeah, that's me." She rocked on her heels and sucked on her lip. Cas watched her, waiting for her to say whatever she wanted to. 

After a while of awkward silence, Castiel raised his eyebrows. "Can I help you?" 

"Dean! Dean, that is what I wanted to talk about." She seemed to be organising her thoughts. 

"Oh?" He replied carefully. He wasn't sure how much Charlie knew, and he didn't want to drop Dean in it. 

"You're seeing him," she stated, like he was supposed to have a valid argument for it. 

"So?" 

She stopped, looking up at him, brown eyes wide. 

"He's like a brother to me, okay? I'm looking out for him here." 

"Yeah, I got that." 

"Wait, are you..." she squinted. "Are you wearing eyeliner?" She traced around her own eye, just in case he didn't know what eyeliner was. 

"Yes?" 

"Oh, my god. Can you teach Dean that? He will look so much better with eyeliner, it'll really bring out his eyes." She put her hand on Castiel's arm and studied his makeup. 

"Would you like to get breakfast with me?" He asked, having had the thought that their conversation shouldn't be taking place in a hotel hallway. 

"Yeah, alright." 

 

"So bisexuality is a thing?"

"Yes, it's a thing," Cas informed her, nibbling on the crust of his toast. It was really warm bread. In no way could bread that lightly toasted ever be considered toast. 

"Is that what you are too, then?" Charlie stuffed bacon into her mouth, eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

"No, no I'm just a full out-" _don't use that word._ "I'm just gay." 

"Why haven't I heard about bisexuality before?" 

"As a sexuality, it doesn't get much, if any, airtime on TV, so a lot of people don't know it's possible." He put the warm bread down. It was turning his stomach. 

"So what, it's like, attraction to men and women?" She took a drink of orange juice and peered over the rim of the glass. 

"Sort of. It's more like attraction to two or more genders." He reached for the plain white mug that contained his black coffee. 

"Huh. That's interesting." 

"Have I opened your eyes to a whole new world?" 

"Chill out, Aladdin, I'm just trying to understand Dean better." She put her knife and fork down onto her empty plate and reached up to fiddle with a dangling earring. 

Castiel thought for a moment. He'd never actually had a friend try to understand him better, so what Charlie was doing seemed incredibly sweet. 

"Anyways," she leaned back in the seat, "tell me about you." 

"Why?" 

"His parents aren't here to interrogate you, so I have to." She smiled, red lipstick having somehow survived the meal. 

"There's not much to know about me," he muttered instinctively. There wasn't much he could tell Charlie without going into his mental health issues. She already knew he played the keyboard, and there wasn't a great deal more to know. 

"No, bullshit. You write songs, and you don't pull those out of your ass. I've listened to the lyrics, Cas. Some of that stuff is dark." She studied his reaction, watching how he shifted uncomfortably. 

"I know." He raised the mug and took a long drink of his coffee to avoid her searching stare. 

"So, where do you get that from?" 

He licked his lips and slowly put the empty mug back on the table. The breakfast room was bustling, full of families who were loading their plates with mountains of breakfast food. The smell of all the food made Cas feel a little sick. 

"Honestly, I'd rather not talk about it." 

"Was it depression or something?" 

"I really don't want to talk about it." He looked away. If someone was going to tell Dean about what he'd gone through, what he was going through, it was going to be him. 

"Okay. What about other things? You've lived for seventeen years, you've gotta have a story about something." She squinted and looked at him, like she was sizing him up. 

"What can I say? I did well in school, then some stuff happened and I became quite the slut. I slept around, mostly men, sometimes women, a few that were neither." 

"Pretty fucking wild sex life," she muttered. 

"I'm many things, but I'm not a cheater, if that's what you're implying." He tried to meet her eyes. He'd been accused of cheating before, and it was the most infuriating thing, because he wasn't a cheater or a liar, but he'd been accused of both. 

"I wasn't saying that." 

_Not in so many words,_ Cas thought, reading her like a book. Band member, previously slept around, admitted to promiscuous behaviour, he was the typical stereotype of a cheater. 

"Look, Charlie, I like Dean. I've liked him since we started talking on Twitter. Usually, I don't do crushes, I do quick fucks in hotel rooms or blowjobs in alleyways. But Dean...Dean is different."

"So he's not just an easy lay?" Her attitude had turned, and she was scrutinising Cas in a way that made him just less than comfortable. It was protectiveness, and he knew it, but it didn't put him at ease at all. 

"No." He shook his head. "No, he's—I think he's more than that." 

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "You think?"

"I don't know if he sees me as an easy lay at this point, Ms Bradbury." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise this is the sixth chapter and nobody has actually played a song in a fic about bands. //Sigh. I'm on it.


	7. Angel With a Shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay an actual song. And angst. I don't even know anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not well; this hasn't been edited. Please excuse mistakes and whatnot.

Dean was lost in the crowd, drowning in it. He was surrounded by alcohol and he pretended he couldn't see it. He hadn't expected such a large number of people. It gave him an idea of what he'd be facing the next night. 

     "Ladies and gentlemen," a voice boomed through the speakers, "please welcome our first band tonight; The Garrison!" 

There were whoops, cheers, and screams from the audience as the band walked on. Dean was very nearly deafened. 

His eyes found Castiel immediately, but Cas couldn't see him. He was clad in his signature black outfit, and was poised at the keyboard like he was ready to go to war. 

     "For our first song, we're gonna play something a little close to the five of us," Gabriel grinned out at the mass of people. 

It was suffocating, being within it. It smelled of sweat and hot air. But Cas was playing an intro Dean seemed to recognise, so he kind of forgot about the discomfort. 

     " _I'm an angel with a shotgun, shotgun,"_ Cas sung, and Dean's jaw dropped open. "An _angel with a shotgun, shotgun, shotgun."_

The crowd screamed and pushed forward, but Dean was frozen where he stood. They sounded amazing, but Cas was singing like a freaking angel. He sounded so goddamn amazing. The YouTube videos did not do him justice, regardless of the 1080p quality. Here, in person, he felt Cas' words swam through him, the beats shook his brain, synched with his heart. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced, but then, he'd never seen another band live before. 

He watched, mesmerised. 

     " _Don't you know you're everything I have?_ " When Cas sung that part on the second chorus, Dean swore they locked eyes for a moment. It was probably nothing, but Cas had turned away and smirked at the white keys as soon as eye contact was made, or so he thought. 

He stumbled a few times, having been pushed on by some guy with a beard and a leather jacket, but for the most part, he stood and watched, captivated. 

 

The Garrison played another two songs, one original and a cover of Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy. Cas ran off stage at the end of their last song, wishing Huntress luck as they shuffled towards the stage to perform their final song of the night. 

His heart was pounding. He was buzzing, running off the high. For the first time in forever, he felt truly alive. Apparently, everyone else felt the same. Gabriel was nearly in tears, and Luke was busy whacking him across the head, demanding he keep himself together. 

     “Holy fucking shit,” Anna gasped, panting like she’d just run a marathon. 

     “Anna, please,” Luke scolded, acting as the parent while they were in Austin. Then, he’d been acting as the parent for years.

     “No, but, holy fucking shit,” Balthazar reiterated from across the circle they’d formed. 

Luke rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. 

     "That was amazing, we did well!" Castiel grinned, there was a murmur of agreement. "I just hope we get through to Wednesday," he added quietly, and the mood instantly dropped. 

     "We'll know shortly," Luke told them. “We’ll be called back in a second.”

 

     "And the first band through to Wednesday's show is..." The announcer stopped and some dramatic music swam through the speakers. The guy looked like he was taking the night far too seriously, dressed in a blue suit and some ridiculous looking silver tie. "Huntress!" The crowd erupted. Castiel's heart pounded faster, and he met Dean's eyes from across the hall. He hadn't been expecting to. Hell, he hadn't even been looking. 

Huntress screamed amongst themselves and ran offstage. 

     "The next band we're going to be seeing again is…" Castiel couldn’t look away. Not when Gabriel grabbed him by the arm and squeezed tighter than was healthy. His heart was still racing, but for slightly different reasons. “The Garrison!” The words took a moment to register with Castiel. 

Gabriel, however, reacted enough for all of them. 

While Dean grinned at him from across the room, the facts fell into place in his mind. 

     “Oh, my god,” he whispered, only to have a rather loud ‘whoop’ screamed in his ear. He flinched, but was beaming. 

Anna eventually got them all together enough to get them offstage. 

Backstage, they were quiet. Huntress congratulated them, and Castiel sat down on the nearest chair, head feeling light. Luke and Balthazar were talking between themselves, faces blank, and Gabriel and Anna were doing the same. Castiel spoke quietly to himself. 

     “We got through.” His siblings looked up at him. “We got through to Wednesday singing that fucking stupid song.” 

 

For a change, Dean was in his own room getting shoved up against a wall. It made a nice difference in atmosphere to being held against a wall in Cas’ room. 

     “You were amazing tonight,” Dean murmured between kisses. “Can’t believe you sung the song.” 

     “Yeah, me neither,” he growled, pushing his hands into Dean’s hair. “Fucking dumb song.” He laughed against Dean’s lips, pulling the bottom lip back with his teeth. 

     “Y’know…I hate to be the killjoy here,” Dean began, pressing his lips back to Cas’ lightly, “but I think I might like to just…chill.” 

Castiel looked up at him, into his eyes. The way the light hit his face there was remarkable. Small fibres of dust floated around him, catching enough in the light to make it seem like it was snowing on him. It made his eyes look so clear and green it was almost unbelievable. 

     “I’m fine with that,” he murmured, shattering the moment. He blinked a few times to clear his head. “I’d—I’d actually like that.” 

     “I don’t know if I wanna stay holed up in here again. You up for a walk?” 

Cas nodded, arms sliding down to take Dean’s hands in his own. “I’d like that.” 

 

It felt wrong, somehow. This wasn’t usual. Castiel was definitely uncomfortable. However nice it seemed to be, walking down the street, cold biting at his face, but Dean’s hand warming his heart, it was wrong. 

He wasn’t all for this random fluffy shit. It didn’t sit right with him. It was much easier, that first night. _That_ was something that was well within his comfort zone. Speaking of that first night…

     “Do you mind if I smoke?” He asked Dean. He hadn’t had a chance that day, between practise and promises that he’d attend the after party he was currently supposed to be at.

     “Go ahead.” 

It at least gave him a chance to let go of Dean’s hand. The feeling of wrongness lifted when he fished a lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. His hands shook when he tried to light it, and he flicked them in exasperation. 

     “Fuckin’ irritating fucking hands,” he muttered, clenching and unclenching them in some vein attempt to stop the tremor. 

     “Let me light it for you.” Dean plucked the lighter out of Cas’ hand, leaving him free to slide the cigarette between his lips. 

     “Thought you didn’t approve,” Cas mumbled, expertly talking around the cigarette. 

     “I don’t.” Dean stopped so he could light it properly. He flicked the lighter, and a flame burst out, illuminating Cas’ face. He shielded the flame from the slight bitter breeze and held it under the end of Cas’ cigarette until it caught.

Internally, Cas sighed. It wasn’t supposed to go like that. He was supposed to get a break from this annoyingly domestic stuff.

When Dean reached for his hand a few moments later, Cas moved away. 

     “Do you think that’s wise?” He asked, blowing out a stream of smoke that stood out starkly against the darkness of the sky.

     “Hm?”

     “We’re on a street corner in Texas. Texas, Dean.” He once again clenched and unclenched the hand that Dean was supposed to be holding. 

     “Fair point.” Dean shrugged, but Cas saw him chew on his lip in his peripheral vision and he wanted to scream.  

He couldn’t do the whole ‘together’ thing, and it hurt Dean when he shied away from it. 

_Oh, motherfucking fuck._

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, but his voice got carried away by the wind and Dean didn’t hear. 

 

They ended up at some random park, perched on a bench with quite a distance between them. The bench was cold, and the wood felt like it was splintering. Castiel closed his eyes and felt the heavy air bite at him.

     “Cas,” Dean began, and by the tone of his voice, Cas decided he didn’t want to hear whatever it was he was going to say. 

     “Don’t,” he requested softly. “I know you’re going to say something I don’t want to hear, so please don’t.” 

     “I was just gonna ask if you were okay,” Dean lied, covering quickly.  Cas looked so upset, sounded so withdrawn, he just couldn’t say what he was going to. 

Castiel paused, turning to look at him. “Liar.” 

 

All in all, the walk was not as good as it sounded. The atmosphere between them was tense and thick when they got back to the hotel. 

Castiel issued a stiff, “Goodnight, Dean,” before he left, not looking back. By the time he got back up to his room, there was metal choking him, and a rather large void in his chest. 

     “No. Not a-fucking-gain,” he growled, pushing himself towards the bathroom. 

He needed every trace of the cold, night air washed off, needed even the slightest trace of Dean’s scent to disappear down the plughole. He stood under the shower for far too long.

When he got out, wrapped in a towel, he made the mistake of checking Twitter. In his mentions, he saw a picture Dean had taken of the handprint. 

He threw his iPhone so far across the room he couldn’t see where it landed. He felt so wrong. He wanted to throw up. Absently, he reached over to the side table. He didn’t realise what he was looking for before he caught himself and froze, shocked at himself. 

 

     “Where’ve you been?” Sam asked, lounging on his bed, reading over a textbook. 

     “Out,” Dean replied dryly, yanking off his jacket and throwing it on the chair. He stopped. Guilt tugged at him already. He wasn’t programmed to be mean to Sam. “Sorry.” 

     “What’s been going on with you recently?” Sam put the textbook down on the bed, sitting up to stare at his brother accusingly. 

     “Nothing, I just got some stuff to think about right now.” 

     “What stuff?” 

     “It doesn’t matter.” He sat down on his bed and rubbed the bottom of his face. “It’s just this band thing, you know? It’s nuts that we’re actually here. Speaking of which, are you ready for tomorrow?”

     “Ugh, not really. I feel like we haven’t practised enough, y’know?” 

The conversation change had gone better than expected. Sam rarely accepted such obvious subject changes, so he really must have looked like he didn’t want to talk. 

     “We’ll be okay.”  

     “Eh, I don’t know.”

Dean sighed, wetting his lips idly. Cas was playing on his mind, of course he was. _Something_ was wrong, and Dean couldn’t put a finger on what. He wondered whether he was sick or something, but he seemed okay, physically. 

     “I’m gonna go take a shower, alright?” 

     “Yeah, fine. I’m just studying anyways.” 

He padded out of the room, feeling like he’d left a part of him in the room, and another part in Cas’ room. 


End file.
